Of Language and Generosity
by Bronwyn O'Reilly
Summary: Prequel to 'Of Iglishmêk and Carpentry'. Thorin is, for some unfathomable reason, left in charge of young Fíli and Kíli for a week, and ends up learning almost as much as he teaches. And Ori is of no help whatsoever.


**Of Language and Generosity**

_for ballykissangel_

There were many things that Thorin Oakenshield was equipped to deal with. He was an expert swordsman, a skilled blacksmith, a brilliant leader and a prince. He had dealt with Goblins and Hobgoblins, Wargs and Wolves, Elves and Men, and had even seen a Dragon and come out alive. However, one mention of the word 'nephews' and he was out of the door faster than he had left Erebor.

"Please, Thorin, Dís and I really need to go," Náror said, pushing his golden hair, so like his son's, out of his eyes. "It will only be for a week, don't worry. Dwalin also lives close, and he knows how to deal with them, and if you're really desperate Dorna lives barely five minutes away."

"Náror, we have been friends for a long time, and I respect you deeply, but there is absolutely no way that I will spend more than a day babysitting your twin terrors."

"Just a week. Please, Thorin, it's just a week."

To this day, Thorin still doesn't know what convinced him, but he nodded resignedly and handed Náror his coat. "Alright. One week. Stay safe."

His brother-in-law grinned and dipped his head thankfully. "You have our thanks. Now, we really have to go."

Dís popped up behind Thorin and gave him a stern look. "They're sleeping now, and I expect they won't wake for a good while, but when they do under no circumstances are they to be allowed out of your sight. Am I understood?"

Never let it be said that Dwarf women were any less intimidating than the men.

Thorin ruffled his sister's hair fondly, then passed her coat to her and shoved the two out the door. "I promise that they will come to no harm, not on my watch. Keep well, the both of you."

The couple waved once, before turning and going off around a corner. They were going to visit Náror's father, who had recently been taken harshly ill and was as frail as a Dwarf could get. This was rare among the Dwarves, and often those near and dear to the one taken ill would spend some time with them, just in case it was something serious. As Náror's father was getting on in years as well, there was a high chance that something would go wrong.

Thorin stood in the doorway for a while before sighing and going back into the home. He had come back from his work for a while to check on his family and friends back in the Blue Mountains, but he had most certainly not expected to be spending this much time with them. 'Them' being his two little nephews – Fíli and Kíli.

As much as he loved them dearly, prolonged exposure to the duo often left someone in tears, and it was not always Fíli or Kíli.

He quietly poked his head into their room, and smiled fondly. There were two beds there, one on each wall, but only one was occupied. Fíli lay sprawled out on his, one arm touching the wall and the other wrapped around Kíli, whose head was on his brother's stomach and his entire body curled up like a cat. It provoked memories for Thorin – he and Frerin had done similar things when they were little, although having a younger sister as well changed the group dynamic.

Thorin shut the door as softly as possible, but in truth it wouldn't have mattered even if he slammed it. Fíli and Kíli were notoriously hard to wake once asleep, both having picked up their mother's sleeping habits. He sat himself down in the armchair in front of the fire, staring into the flames. Thoughts tumbled through his mind, in no particular order and with little cohesion, but all circling around the same theme: family.

The hours ticked by, and Thorin barely noticed at all, he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts. He was only roused when he felt a slight tug on his arm, and he looked over to see a mop of dark hair and gap teeth smiling up at him.

"Namada say too'll pla widme," Kíli said, still tugging on his shirt sleeve. Thorin frowned in bemusement, then reached over and picked up the little four year old, seating him in his lap.

"What was that?" he asked, not understanding a word.

"Namada satoo wull plawime," Kíli repeated, smiling wider and tugging on Thorin's beard. Talking forgotten, Kíli set to work tangling his uncle's beard up into knots upon knots, which Thorin just knew he would spend hours trying to get out once Kíli went back to bed.

The door creaked open, and this time a blond head peered in. Fíli took one look at Thorin and grinned hugely, running over and jumping onto the edge of the armchair.

"Uncle Thorin!" he said excitedly, bouncing a little on his perch. "Ma and Da said you'd be visiting when they were away! Why didn't you come in and wake us?"

"Because you need to sleep, and I was tired as well." He gently disentangled Kíli from his lap to make room for the both of them. "Now, what news have you to tell me?"

"Lots of things!" Fíli chattered for a while, telling Thorin tales of what he and Kíli had been up to during his absence. He spoke of their birthdays, his training, Mister Dwalin's receding hairline and Dís' fight at the market. Kíli tried to join in as well at times, but Thorin couldn't understand anything he said and Fíli wasn't much better.

"Oh, and Kíli's getting really good at Iglishmêk, isn't that right?" Fíli smiled happily at his brother, who returned the grin and made a few odd gestures with his hands. Thorin could see an 'I' and a 'good', but some of the signs were completely unfamiliar to him.

"Is that so?" He made a few signs of his own, spelling out a simple greeting, which Kíli watched intently before nodding and responding.

This time the gestures were clearer, although it was obvious that some of them were fabricated on the spot. It was impressive, though, for a four year old to have such a quick grasp of the complicated sign language. That could be the reason for his apparent speech impediment.

"No, no, you can't say that," Fíli interrupted, shaking his head at his brother. "You have to do it properly when you're speaking to Uncle Thorin, or else he won't understand you."

"Bu' I dit proply," Kíli said with a little pout. "Lie you tolme."

"No, no, no, you have to say this," here Fíli did the proper hand gestures for the reply, "not this," here he copied what Kíli had done.

Sticking out his tongue, Kíli attempted to replicate the movements, but Thorin could tell that he much preferred the other version. "Lie dis?"

"Yes, just like that," Fíli said approvingly, then turned to Thorin. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied with a firm nod. And so he sets about correcting Kíli's language, because if he doesn't understand his Iglishmêk then the week is going to go by with no communication between the two without Fíli present.

"I'm hungry," whined Fíli after a while, and Thorin noted that it is probably breakfast and high time to raid his sister's cupboards.

"Very well, let's go find something to eat, shall we? Kíli, off. I need to stand up."

Thorin loved his nephews dearly, but there were times when he was reminded precisely why he didn't have children. Fíli was eager and helpful, but he was almost always darting off to drag Kíli away from one thing or another, which made him unreliable. Kíli, on the other hand, was at that age where everything is fascinating, especially things which were likely to get him hurt, and he hadn't the words to warn anyone.

Thorin spent a lot of the day teaching Kíli and Fíli more Iglishmêk, although it really was more him and Fíli teaching Kíli to use it properly. As the morning progressed, Thorin paid particular attention to what Kíli got right and wrong – he couldn't seem to get emotions right, always making up new words for them, but his grammar structure was for the most part flawless. Thorin didn't consider himself a good teacher, but having Fíli at his side translating everything helped a lot.

"Kíli, that's mean," Fíli said at one point, just after Kíli had completely botched a sentence. "You need to learn the proper ones, not just what you want to do."

Kíli pouted, a move Thorin found both endearing and a little exasperating. "Don wanna do dat wa, wanna do dis wa."

"No, you have to do this one."

"Diwa boria don wannoo."

Fíli looked nonplussed and glanced sideways at Thorin, who shrugged helplessly. He couldn't understand Kíli's baby talk.

Kíli looked between the two of them then put his hands on his hips, his bottom lip poking out adorably. It reminded Thorin more than a little of Dís at that age, and he had to supress the urge to chuckle. "Lizn to me! Diwa da Dorin teeme borin. Don wannoo do diwa wanna do my wan!"

"Alright, alright, let's do a different one then," said Fíli, although he clearly couldn't understand a word of what Kíli was saying and was only trying to defuse the situation. "Here, how about we do directions? I bet Uncle Thorin knows lots of different ones, and you haven't learnt them yet!"

Kíli frowned at him, but duly sat down and looked to Thorin, who sent Fíli a thankful nod and began to teach Kíli basic words, like left and right. Kíli picked them up quickly, quicker than he remembered Fíli doing so at that age, despite the fact that he talked faster than a speeding arrow. With this in mind, Thorin was quite happy to teach the two of them some of the more complicated words. Fíli enjoyed it immensely, even if he and Kíli seemed to be having a continual conversation throughout.

The first few days passed smoothly, because both Fíli and Kíli seemed happy enough just to be in the company of their uncle. However, two days before Náror and Dís were due back, Thorin's luck ran out.

Thorin had taken the two out to explore the market for a bit, in order to do some shopping, check up on some old friends and just have a brief respite from the whirlwind that was Fíli and Kíli. He didn't let them out of his sight – he was a Dwarf, not stupid – and made sure that they stayed well away from anything dangerous, but other than that it was nice just to be out of the house for a bit and exchange words with someone who could talk properly and who wasn't eleven.

"Dís saddled you with baby-sitting duty?" asked Dori, looking down at the little Dwarflings and tilting his head to the side.

Thorin nodded. "She and Náror are visiting Náror's father, so seeing as I was in town she left them with me."

"Hope they don't burn the house down. I remember Ori very nearly did something similar at Fíli's age."

"If they did, Dís would murder me with her little finger," Thorin said, utterly serious. "I would not want to be in that position."

"Uncle Thorin, can me and Kíli go and look at the toymaker's store?" Fíli asked, tugging on Thorin's sleeve.

"Not now, Fíli, you must wait until we have finished our business."

Dori scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Actually, Ori might be able to look after them for a bit, if you have things you really need to get done without them following you. Oi, Ori, come over here for a second."

Ori was a rather timid young Dwarf, just in his sixties and hopelessly kind. Thorin didn't mind him so much, for he was loyal and happy to help anyone who wanted. "Yes? Oh, hello, Thorin," here he bowed slightly awkwardly, as if unsure how to properly greet him. Thorin nodded back, before looking to Dori.

"Ori, Thorin has some business he needs to complete, but he's got Fíli and Kíli with him, too. Take them over to Bofur's for a while, will you?"

Ori nodded hastily, smiling down at Fíli and Kíli. "Hello, again. I hear you want to go and see the toymaker?"

"Ori!" Fíli cheered, while Kíli smiled his gap toothed smile and clamped his arms around Ori's leg. The trio went off, Kíli chatting away in his strange language, Fíli butting in here and there, and Ori listening patiently to it all.

"He's a good lad, Ori is," Dori said firmly. "Wouldn't want him to get too close to anything y dangerous, but he's got a good heart."

"That he has," Thorin said. "I must go and look after my business, but I may be back yet. If I see them, I will make sure Ori is hale."

"I wouldn't put it past those lads to run him straight into a ditch," Dori agreed, and Thorin went his way.

Not ten minutes later, he found himself wandering past Bofur's toy store, just in time to see a little brawl going on between a red-headed Dwarfling and none other than little Kíli. Fíli was either trying to help or stop Kíli, it was difficult to tell, and Ori was fretting at the side-lines, stretching out a hand and pleading for the three to stop fighting.

Thorin strode up, grabbed Kíli by the collar and hoisted him up into the air, doing the same to the other Dwarfling. "What is this?" he demanded. "Brawling in public is the height of discourtesy."

Kíli said something, except it was even faster than usual and all Thorin caught was 'Fíli', or what he thought might have been 'Fíli' but could have been something else. The other boy looked vastly more terrified than angry, and was as silent as the grave, but Thorin knew a guilty conscience when he saw one, and immediately turned his head to look at him seriously.

"What is your name?"

"Duran, son of Modan," said the boy nervously.

"What happened?"

Kíli let lose a few more sentences, but after a swift glare from Thorin he fell silent. A few seconds passed and it became evident that Duran wasn't going to say anything, so he looked to Ori.

"What happened here?"

Ori twisted his hands together, his entire frame tight with nervous tension. "Well, you see, master Duran said a few things he shouldn't have about young Fíli, and Kíli got very angry and…well, punched him. But I'm sure neither of them meant it; it was just a bit of circumstance!"

Thorin fixed a glare on Duran, watching as he squirmed and avoided his gaze. "If I hear of anything like this again, then I will be very disappointed. I know your father, and he is a good Dwarf, so I don't know where you learnt this but I expect it to change. Am I understood?"

Duran nodded frantically, and said, "Yes, Mister Thorin, sir, it won't happen again."

Thorin put them both down and nodded for Fíli to follow him, Kíli's hand still in his own. Ori also followed, admittedly a few paces behind, and they walked back to Dori's stall in silence. Thorin wasn't quite angry, he wasn't quite at that stage yet, but he would need to have a serious talk – for a given value of talk – to Kíli about actions and reactions.

"Thank you, Ori," he said formally, nodding to the young Dwarf. "You did what you could."

"I'm so sorry I couldn't stop them, Mister Thorin, I really am," said Ori earnestly. "If there's anything I can do, just let me know, I'll do it!"

"It is fine," he replied, patting Ori on the shoulder firmly before turning to leave. "Give Dori and Nori my best."

The walk back was awkward and silent. Fíli was constantly sending small gestures Kíli's way, who replied in turn and altogether frustrated Thorin immensely. This wasn't standard Iglishmêk – it was similar, and the words occasionally matched up, but there was something different about it that just didn't fit Thorin's knowledge of the language.

Shortly, they were sitting in front of the fire once again, with Fíli and Kíli side by side on the carpet in front of him. "Fíli, tell me what happened this afternoon, and Kíli, do not interrupt."

Fíli fidgeted in his seat on the floor. "Well, Duran was making fun of the fact that Kíli can't talk properly, and then…he said it was my fault!" he burst out angrily. "He said that Ma and Da and I were all stupid and that I was an idiot for not teaching Kíli! He's the ignorant one! Kíli is fine!"

Kíli made a series of angry gestures with his hands, this time in standard Iglishmêk that Thorin had no trouble translating. 'It was stupid! Fíli is the best! He can't say that!'

Thorin held up a hand. "Kíli, when someone offends your brother it is his problem. It is good for you to stand up for him, and I am proud of you for that, but you are not to resort to violence. Use your words, or your Iglishmêk, or let Fíli fight his own battle. Fíli, I expect you to teach this to your brother so that next time this does not occur."

Fíli looked down at the floor, but Kíli was still angry. 'It was not Fíli's fault! My fault! Not say that to Fíli!'

Thorin gazed at him, and he stared straight back, bristling with all the righteousness indignation that a toddler could possess. So strongly was the resemblance to Dís at that moment that Thorin felt himself smiling ever so slightly. His sister had the same temperament as her youngest son, and if Thorin knew either of them, Kíli would not be growing out of it any time soon.

So, with a large sigh, Thorin nodded. Raising his hands, he clearly signed, 'It is not your fault, it is Duran's fault. But do not fight. There are better ways. Do you understand me?'

Kíli and Fíli both nodded fiercely, both pairs of eyes meeting his. Thorin leaned back and stretched out his arms, gesturing wordlessly for them to come and join him. Kíli scrambled up to sit on his knee before dragging Fíli up as well, even though the older Dwarf was well able to get up on his own. Neither brother knew how proud it made Thorin feel, deep inside. It was clear that Kíli thought the world of his brother, and Fíli adored him straight back, and as long as that bond was unbroken, then all would be well.

"Have I ever told you of the time when your mother punched a Ranger in the face for insulting your father?"

* * *

Náror and Dís arrived back on time, and were met at the door by two smiling faces and one stern one.

"Ma! Da!"

Dís laughed, and looked across at Thorin. "I am impressed," she said, "no injuries at all. How did this happen?"

Thorin shrugged. "Perhaps I am a better babysitter than I previously thought."

Náror gave him a distinctly disbelieving smirk before sweeping Kíli up into his arms. "Well, it looks like we can leave you with Uncle Thorin, doesn't it?"

Kíli nodded happily. "Unca Dorins go' lotsa good story 'bout youan Ma," he said with a high pitched laugh.

"Is that so?"

"Sit troodat Ma punch daman inda face foyou?'

"Yes, it is, although I don't think your uncle should have told you that one."

Fíli tugged on Thorin's shoulder, pulling him down to whisper in his ear, "I don't think you should have told us that story, Kíli isn't going to shut up about it."

Thorin smiled and ruffled his nephew's hair. "He needs the practice."

He left the next morning, although Dís asked him to stay longer. He couldn't, sadly, as he had work to find and people to see. However, as a parting gift, Fíli taught him a little of his and Kíli's made up Iglishmêk.

"Just in case he's still not talking properly next time," said Fíli seriously.

"I think we all understand each other well enough without," Thorin replied, but implanted the movements into his brain for future reference.

Kíli came up just as they were waving goodbye. "Love you, Uncle Thorin," he said very carefully, focussing his entire attention on the words he was saying. Thorin leaned down and pressed his lips to his brow, before straightening and smiling at Kíli.

Thumb pressed to little finger – _and._

One thumb pointing to the chest – _I._

One finger pointing at listener – _you._

'And I, you.'

Kíli grinned up at him, and Fíli smiled proudly, and Thorin waved farewell.

**A/N: For a prompt/request from ballykissangel. I hope I fulfilled your expectations and you enjoyed, although it is tweaked a bit! To everyone else, thank you; the reception for 'Of Iglishmêk and Carpentry' was amazing!**

**The Tolkien estate it not mine, I just like to play.**

**- Bronwyn**


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